


What Happens in Osaka

by doomsdays



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, M/M, Threesome - M/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-22
Updated: 2020-06-22
Packaged: 2021-03-03 19:55:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,639
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24861175
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/doomsdays/pseuds/doomsdays
Summary: Hanzo takes a trip to the Shimada family’s tattoo artist, guarded by two of his father’s finest bodyguards. What happens in the limo on the way back to Hanamura, stays in the limo.
Relationships: Hanzo Shimada/Original Character(s)
Kudos: 20





	What Happens in Osaka

**Author's Note:**

> I just think Hanzo should be an ass slut. He’s 17 in this, read with caution.

The Shimada heir must be protected. Today, he has Daisuke, whose hands wander as much his eyes when he helps him into the car, slipping beneath the lip of his robe to steal just the barest brush of hidden skin and Asahi, whose cock Hanzo hasn’t failed to notice in the confines of his tailored slacks. He is young, younger than Daisuke; one of his father’s newest bodyguards; brought along only at Daisuke’s recommendation to guard the young heir on his trip to Osaka and to his father’s tattoo artist.

He isn’t thinking clearly; he is tired from the drive and the fresh ink in his arm is a dull ache swaddled in soft bandages and there is a heat pooling low in his belly at the warm solidity of Daisuke’s thigh next to his, the way he can see the line of his cock even flaccid in his slacks. He’s hyper focused on it, all-too aware of the ragged breaths Asahi is drawing next to him, like it’s killing the man to even be close to him. He wants to touch them, to taste them - he can imagine the heavy weight of velvety-smooth balls on his tongue, the feel of firm muscle beneath his fingertips.

It occurs to him, not for the first time, that he wants to fuck Daisuke.He wonders what Genji would do. How his younger brother would seduce a man, all hooded eyes and parted lips. Beautiful, irresistible, the way Genji has always been. The way Genji is for him, too. If it were Genji in this situation, alone in the back of a limousine with two of their family’s most handsome bodyguards, he would certainly get what he wanted. He knows Genji. He would have Asahi knelt before him with his face between his legs and Daisuke kissing on his neck, finger spreading the folds of his pretty cunt open for a hungry tongue.

But he is not Genji, and he is not good at this. He has always been more awkward, more versed in business dealings than seduction. 

“Thank you for accompanying me,” Hanzo says, stupidly. It breaks the silence, but it is foolish. Immature, formal. He regrets it afterwards, but he finishes the thought for the sake of...something. Image, he supposes. “I will...give my father the highest of recommendations for you both..”

He glances at Daisuke out of the corner of his eye, and he’s smiling. Head cocked to the side in boyish charm, highly amused. “Your father needs no recommendation for me, Hanzo. He’s well aware of my skills.”

Dammit. He’s right. He’s not old; twenty-three to Hanzo’s seventeen, but he’s already his father’s most trusted bodyguard. Loyal to his masters, sharp as the blades Hanzo and Genji train with, discrete above all else. Well-dressed and handsome - the kind of man the Shimada family should be seen with. The kind of man Hanzo could fall into bed with. He banishes that thought away for later in his bedroom, thoughts to guide the cradle of his hand around his cock and the slide of fingers in his ass.

“Asahi, then.”

“Now _he_ might need some help,” Daisuke chuckles and Hanzo senses the shift in his posture without looking. He can feel his heated breath on the nape of his neck, can smell the heavy scent of the Cuban cigars he’s always smoking. Imported, paid for with his father’s money and rightly deserved. He’s not smoking, now, out of respect - the smoke makes Hanzo’s eyes sting and throat burn, but the lingering, expensive smell isn’t so bad. “Make sure to tell your father how well we took care of you.”

The words are loaded. Heavy. Hanzo knows the implication, knows it from the way Daisuke nuzzles closer, lips ghosting over the flutter of Hanzo’s pulse at his neck. He’s close, too close - for propriety, for comfort, for the way Hanzo’s cock is already swelling to life. He ventures a touch to Dasiuke’s thigh - his hand resting on the inside, midway between his knee and crotch. Now or never. _What would Genji do_.

He can’t bear to look at him as he says it, though. “Perhaps if even more proper care is taken of me, I will keep the information more for myself than my father.”

He hears Asahi inhale sharply beside him and he thinks to look at him, but then Daisuke’s fingers are on his chin, dragging his face towards him. “I thought you’d never ask, sweet prince.”

“You know, it’s been damn hard,” Daisuke says, “watching you. Guarding you. Standing outside your room at night while you dream of the cocks you crave.”

“Don’t think we haven’t heard you,” Asahi offers, but Daisuke hushes him with a glare and resumes his compliments. 

“Your brother, he’s real cute, but he’s not you.”

Hanzo’s heart flutters, his cock half-hard beneath his heavy robe at the compliment, at the as-before-unheard of notion of someone preferring him to his brother. It’s too much already.

“Such a beauty, Hanzo,” Daisuke says, using the thumb and forefinger on his chin to turn Hanzo’s head this way and that. He can feel his cheeks burning, blood rushing to them in much the same way as it’s flooding to his cock. “I’ve been waiting for you to let me under those robes.”

“Shit, Dai,” Asahi says as he tugs Hanzo’s robe down his right arm, baring his shoulder to the slivers of moonlight filtering through the limousine’s sunroof. “Look at his tits.” 

Instantly, unceremoniously, Asahi’s hands are on his chest, curled under his resting arm to thumb over his nipples without making him raise his hands stupidly in the air. His incredibly, _absurdly_ sensitive nipples, already sensitive from the tattoo artist’s hands on him, from the ink that now spreads over his left pectoral. They’re hardening under the pads of Asahi’s fingertips and his back arches sharply.

Daisuke pulls Hanzo out of his seat and into his lap, guiding the spread of his thighs around his hips and bringing his knee up, tumbling Hanzo closer forward. He’s careful of his freshly-inked arm, only grabbing his right side to tug him against him. He can hear Asahi moving behind him; hears the unmistakable sounds of a belt being unbuckled and the soft shudder-hiss as it’s withdrawn from its loops. He waits for what feels like an eternity in the span of a few seconds and then the heavy weight of his bodyguard’s cock is resting against his spine, leaving what is undoubtedly a sticky trail on his dark blue robe. He should be mad, he knows, but instead he’s rising up off of Daisuke’s lap, reaching behind him to tug the robe up so Asahi can rut it against the cleft of his ass.

“Hanzo,” Asahi grunts as Daisuke kisses him, open-mouthed and hungry. There is no preamble, no warning before his tongue slides smooth and slick into Hanzo’s mouth, sucking the moan up out of his throat. “Are you gonna let us? Dai, i think he’s gonna - “

Hanzo pulls back panting from Daisuke’s kiss, moaning “Anything you like,” as his hand comes between them, moving between his own lewdly spread thighs to palm at his bodyguard’s cock. “I’ll let you - I _want you_ \- do whatever you want..”

“Aren’t you sweet,” Daisuke says lowly, husky, reclining against the seat back and giving his hips the slightest raise, pushing his clothed cock into Hanzo’s eagerly questing hand. The button of his slacks pops easily, the zipper a smooth slide - clothes well-made, expensive. No stuck zippers for an employee of the Shimada, Hanzo thinks idly as he reaches within and withdraws what he wants. It’s hard in his palm, thick and hot and Daisuke makes the most rewarding noise when he thumbs the foreskin back to expose the tender head, dribbling a line of sticky fluid over his fingers. “Much sweeter than your brother. He’s a tease.”

Hanzo is fascinated. Not because he's never touched a cock - there has been the son of his father's business partner in the summer of his fifteenth year, a few friends few and far between - but because Daisuke is looking at him with pure naked want in his eyes and Hanzo's skin feels like it's on fire.

Hanzo looks over his shoulder, catching a glimpse of the way Asahi is biting his lip, brows furrowed in concentration as he guides the slide of his cock along Hanzo's ass, the sticky head bumping against the bunched up fabric of his robe. His hands squeeze the fleshy globes of his ass to part them, making a perfect valley for his cock to glide between and as he does it, his thumbs brush over the sensitive skin of his hole and it makes him jump, hips jerking forward against Daisuke. The man's hand reaches beneath his robes, curling around his sensitive prick and thumbing over the head and Hanzo wilts against him, content to give shuddery lite fucks into the smooth tunnel of skin.

“Hanzo, _fuck,”_ Asahi groans, and Hanzo. “I wanna...shit - I wanna fuck you.” Hanzo likes the sound of it, likes the way the words stutter-trip-fall out of his mouth.

“Do you want him to?” Daisuke asks. “Of course you do, sweet prince...that ass needs a cock. Maybe two.”

Hanzo's vision narrows as his breath catches in his throat. _Two_. The both of them, focused entirely on him...just the thought makes him dizzy, has him drawing in shaking breaths that make his starving lungs burn. Asahi’s fingers take far too many liberties from the position he’s taken knelt behind him, slicked up with lube he'd pulled from some hidden pocket of his suit jacket and Hanzo is arching, letting Daisuke hold his weight as Asahi corkscrews his fingers into the easy give of his hole. Daisuke kisses the parts of Hanzo he can reach: the corded muscles of his neck, the soft swell of his heaving chest, the red-flushed ear when Hanzo turns his head in embarrassment. Murmurs heated things: promises, endearments, desires, things that are so dirty even Genji might blush if he heard them and they’re getting said to _him_.

Hanzo gasps, stuttering. “Yes…” he breathes, letting his hands come to rest on the car’s high seat when Daisuke nudges them away from his cock. Daisuke’s are bigger than Hanzo's and it's easy to take both of their cocks in his grip, running his hand from base to tip and back, precum making it an easy slide as Asahi spreads his ass open. His young bodyguard’s fingers aren't long or elegant, but they're thick enough and when he scissors them wide it makes him shudder with want, makes him all too acutely aware that they are all at once _so much_ and _not enough_. “Fuck me..”

The man at his back is barely older than him, inexperienced and eager and Hanzo knows already that Daisuke will take more time with him, will be sure to tease him near to bursting before he ever lets the fat head of his cock prod against him the way Asahi’s does, firm and hot and slippery. Asahi has a hand on the small of Hanzo's back as he's pushing him forward and down, back arched so his ass is on display, a better position for him to fuck.

His cock isn't the biggest, but the stretch is exquisite. It's too much, he swears, like he always does when he takes it for the first time in a while, spreading his ass wide open and making him forget how to breathe. Daisuke’s hands are at the nape of his neck, tangling in his tumble of soft hair as he murmurs in his ear - _just like that, young master, you sound so good when you take it, like a greedy little whore._

Hanzo isn't aware he'd been making sounds. To him there is only the blood rushing in his ear, the rustling whisper of silks as the motions of Daisuke’s curling hand upsets the fall of his robe, the steadily building sounds of Asahi’s thighs connecting with the backs of his own, his balls slapping against his as he fucks into him enthusiastically. He has the coherency to worry for a second between heartbeats that he's neglecting Daisuke and that again, Genji would be better at this, why is he _bothering_ , but the man seems content to support him and patiently allow him to take the cock he's being given. Seems content with Hanzo's blunt fingernails digging into the skin beneath his shirt where he's mussed the collar as his fingers tighten and loosen, barely able to make himself focus to get a good grip on anything.

Asahi is done quickly. Too quickly, barely allowing himself any time to slump forward and let himself rest before he's pulling out and Hanzo can feel the cum dripping from his slack hole down his heavy, full balls and he's disappointed first, fascinated second. That he has this much power, that he is this alluring. Thoughts he has in the seconds before Daisuke is saying “My turn,” with a wicked grin against Hanzo’s cheek, slapping Hanzo's shaking thigh. It's unspoken, the request, and Hanzo reads it fine - raises himself up onto his knees astride Daisuke’s lap and lets the man press the head of his cock against his opening, drooling Asahi’s cum onto the tip of the man’s cock to make it easier.

“Look at me,” he says,and Hanzo listens even though part of him hears Genji's voice in his head - _don't give them what they want. make them work for it. for you_ \- but his gaze rises immediately and he has to blink a few times to make Daisuke’s handsome face stop blurring. “You're going to look so pretty when you take it. You took him inside first, but you're mine, aren't you?”

Hanzo thinks for a moment and then he nods. He wants to be someone’s.

“Maybe I should share a cup of sake, make it really official,” Daisuke mocks as Hanzo feels the blunt head against him and he's so achingly empty his hole is quivering at the attention. “You'd like that, wouldn't you? For a man to own you. Take this and let me own you, _young master_.”

He holds his cock steady as Hanzo lowers himself onto it, lets the thick column fill up his hungry insides. Like this it feels like even more than is humanly possible, so deep in him that each shuddering heave of his body bumps the head against his prostate, makes his hands clutch tighter at Daisuke’s shoulders. He thinks he hears, from somewhere far away, Daisuke tell him to _move_ and he does obediently, raises himself up to sink slowly back down, the cock inside him feeling like it's going to split him open each time he takes it in deeper than before.

When he comes it's with a final, shaking moan, low and as quiet as he can so the driver only a screen away can't hear it, settling down onto Daisuke’s lap with a shudder. When he looks down there are strings of pearly cum trailing from the tip of his cock to his bunched up robes, obvious and embarrassing on the rich blue fabric. Asahi makes a weak, strangled noise when Hanzo comes, and he wonders idly if he'd gotten hard again, if he's touching himself to the sight of him getting fucked. He wants to look but he can't make his mind focus to move, can only look at the way Daisuke’s hair is a messy wreck, gel clawed out of it by Hanzo's scrambling fingers, the way his dark eyes are black with desire as he grunts through the last few thrusts into his master’s fucked-out son.

He thinks he'll bring these two along for each visit he takes to Osaka.


End file.
